The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1887-12-27
Written for the Indianapolis Journal.
ChrisfrnaS

Christmas.
Down the centuries comes a hallowed story
Telling how One stepped from eternal glory
And wore the mortal robes of earth and time.
Serene those days, the Roman legions stated.
From war and carnage gave a blessed release
The happy coming of the Prince of Peace
The wise men hasten full of faith and yearninr.
Rich gifts of gold and incense sweet they bring;
They mark His star in eastern heavens burning
Lo Where it pauses is the promised King.
dimpled baby beautiful and tender
His strange soft eyes full of alight divine,
bis simple couch hath naught OF earthly splendor,
No carven gold, no priceless jewels shine;
No palace His, with warriors mailed defending.
No naughty princes keeping regal state,
Above the Babe a loving mother bending
Around, unseen Gods mighty angels wait.
How precious childhood. since the Lord of heaven,
A little child. lay on His mothers breast;
How sacred is the body God has given
Since Christ Himself in human clay dressed.
Oh. blessed dayl the of all the ages,
-, We read thy precious story DER and DER again;
The sweetest one in all the sacred pages,
How the ReCee-ner came to sinful men.
We see the Child to earthly manhood growing,
What holy promise on His features glowing,
What soft compassion in the wondrous eyes.
We Him walk upon the storm-tossed water,
He bids the stricken widows heart rejoice,
He softly calls the rulers youthful daug hter
The dead face brightens at His quickening voice.
Amid the crowding throngs our feet are going
We strive to touch His seamless garments hem;
We hear His sentence, pardon best bestowing.
Sin thou no more-neirher do condemn
He heals the sick He soothes the faint and falling
The dying live, the blind ones His face.
The hungry eat, the deaf ones hear Him calling
The little children find His close embrace.
We listen to His words of melting sweetness
To all the weary. burdened and unblest
(kYrfa with won SIN apdir l0ta
Come unto Me, and viii give you rest
Our hearts are heavy for the cruel anguish
He bore for in sad Gethsemane
Betrayed thorncrowned, reviled behold Him Ian.
Slain for our sins on awful Calvary.
We see the rending vail the earth convulsed and
The darkening sun, hear voices in the air,
Father, forgive, He cries. above the rlbad hooking
We hear the sweetness Of that dying prayer.
A'glad day comes, the grand triumphant morning,
The blessed time that sees Lord arise,
The happy earth smiles in her spring adjoining,
Made meet and lovely for the Masters eyes.
Could we. as did the wise men, bow before Him,
Behold that face, majestic calm and sweet,
With what deep rapture would then adore Him,
And lay our offerings at His pierced feetl
Then would each holy thought each pure and high
affection,
Safe in the love. and strong in the profession
OF God the man, the crowned and crucifed.
Hark to the voice that speaks in accents tender:
Each service to the stricken given full and free;
Each cup of blessing willing hands may render;
Each deedof lovs is given unto me-"
The poor the lame the burdoned and weary
The sick and dying with Away.
The shivering children. TO whose novels dreary
There comes no gadness on the Christmas day.
When by bright hearths. loved. sheltered and pro-
tected,
We muse upon this happy Christmas morn.
Think of the wandering starving and afflicted
Aid them and comfort for the Christ child born.
Then shall we know the meaning and the blessing
OF that grand song heard far Syrian plains,
peace and good will !" Gods love to man expressing,
And join with angels in the Christmas strains.
BRAZIL, Ind. Mary Bassett HusSey